


Good Intentions

by Strange_Soulmates



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Eventual Alternate Universe - Prison, M/M, No Underage Sex, Organized Crime, Possessive Behavior, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7035334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strange_Soulmates/pseuds/Strange_Soulmates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five year old Harry Potter meets and befriends a seventeen year old Tom Riddle while hanging out at his dad’s station.  James Potter decides to take Tom under his wing, using Tom’s connection with Harry to try and keep the teen grounded, even as he begins to investigate the Death Eaters, a dangerous organized crime group and their mysterious leader only known as Lord Voldemort</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to be super clear about this to avoid any confusion. Tom and Harry's relationship will not become a sexual one until Harry is in his early twenties.
> 
> The only reason I have chosen not to use archive warnings is that, given who is involved, I don't yet know if there will be graphic descriptions of violence. If there are, I will amend the warnings to reflect that. Also, I will add tags as the story progresses and I know what's happening, so be aware of that. Also the rating may go up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I passed the 400 follower mark on tumblr, so now, as promised, here is the cellmate AU.
> 
> Updates on this fic won't be regular, but I promise I won't abandon it. It's currently written assuming an american setting (largely out of laziness at the moment), but I intend to go back and edit it to reflect the fact it's set in the UK. Sorry for the Americanisms. They will eventually be fixed.

Detective Potter sat at the small gray table, staring ahead sightlessly and wondering how things had come to this. Everything he’d done in the last ten years had been to ensure that nothing like this ever happened, and now here he was.

The door to the small holding room inside the prison opened, and Potter looked up.

Tom Riddle walked in, looking just as poised and in control as he had every other time Potter had seen him. The fucking bastard somehow managed to make even the orange prison jumpsuit look good.

“Detective Potter!” Tom said, a genial smile on his face. “What an unexpected surprise. And without your sidekick too.”

He took a deep breath as Riddle took a seat across from him, reigning in his temper. Now was not the time to let the bastard get to him. As much as it galled him to admit it, he was here for a reason, and alienating Riddle wasn’t that reason.

“Now,” Riddle said, crossing one leg over the other, “what brings you here to darken my doorstep?”

James took a deep breath and stared directly into the man’s eyes. “Harry. It’s about Harry.”

The mask fell off Riddle’s face, leaving behind an expression so intense James had to fight the shiver down his spine. It had been Riddle’s fixation with Harry that had driven him and Sirius to do what they’d done, desperate to put the bastard behind bars by any means necessary.

“What about Harry?” Riddle asked, his voice cold.

Bastard knew. He had to know, or at least sense the kind of thing that would have brought him here. There were only so many things that would lead him to make a deal with this particular devil.

James took a deep breath, trying to keep his anger and fear under control as best he could.

“He’s been arrested,” James said.

“On what charges?” Riddle asked, eyes hard as steel, a calculating gleam in them.

Trying to figure out exactly what he could do to get Harry out of the situation.

And that was why James was here. As much as he hated the bastard, Riddle would bend heaven and earth to help his son. Anything Harry wanted or needed, Riddle would provide. It had been that way practically since they had met.

“Murder,” James said.

He watched in detached interest as what seemed to be genuine emotion flared across Riddle’s face.

“When is the trial?” Riddle asked him.

James closed his eyes.

“Oh you idiot,” Riddle said, venomously. “You stupid, prideful imbecile.”

“Shut up!” James hissed. “Just shut up.”

“Congratulations. Your hubris has cost your son his freedom,” Riddle said, scathingly.

“Your resources seem to be doing you a whole lot of good,” James snarled at him.

“We both know the only reason I am here is because I choose to be,” Riddle said.

James closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Lashing out at Riddle wouldn’t do any good. That wasn’t why he was here.

“Look,” James said. “I’m here, okay. I’m here. I’m pulling every string I have and a few I don’t.” He took a deep breath, fighting down the bile in his throat. “You’re getting a new cellmate on Friday,” he said, the words like glass in his mouth.

Riddle stared at him, blue-grey eyes making James feel like he was a bug under the microscope.

"I hate you." James said. "God, I hate you so much there aren't even words for it," he said.

"If Harry wasn't so attached to you," Riddle said, in a tone as if he were discussing the weather, "you would have been killed in the line of duty years ago."

Heat pooled in his veins and he clenched his fist so hard under the table that his nails bit into his palm. He exhaled through his clenched jaw. Harry. He needed to help Harry, and this was the best way under the circumstances.

“The point I was trying to get around to,” James said through clenched teeth, “is that as much as I hate you, I know that you’re the best chance Harry has on the inside. Possessive, fixated son of a bitch that you are, you’re not going to let anybody touch him.”

Not anybody else, anyway. James had to fight off the overwhelming feeling of unease, of wrongness. He was gift-wrapping his son for the psychopath. Handing him over on a fucking platter. If there was any other way...

But there wasn't. He'd been over his options over and over again, and this was the best way. Harry had learned self-defense at James' insistence from a young age, but he wasn't equipped for prison. With that smart mouth of his and how handsome he was... things wouldn't end well. And Harry was too much like his father to know when it was just best to just sit down and keep his mouth shut.

Putting the son of a cop in prison was as doomed to tragedy as putting away a cop.

Riddle was Harry’s only chance of surviving this, let alone a chance as surviving it largely unscathed.

“No one will touch him without his permission,” Riddle agreed easily, but something in his eyes made it clear that the deterrent in place was going to be a violent one.

The caveat made James feel sick to his stomach. The only way. This was the only way.

“Friday,” James told him. “He’ll be here Friday. I’ll pull my strings, but I wanted to give you time to pull yours.”

Riddle’s gaze turned distant, his eyes calculating. “I’ll need some inmates transferred,” he said.

James exhaled. God, he was handing control of this prison over to the fucking Death Eaters.

For Harry. He was doing this for Harry.

“You need them?” he asked Riddle, staring straight into those blank eyes. “You absolutely need them to keep Harry safe?”

“I already have the prison completely under my control,” Riddle said easily. “You put me in here four years ago. More than enough time to ensure that me and mine are untouchable. A few more prisoners will do nothing to effect those dynamics, I assure you. Ask any of the guards.”

He had. He’d spoken with every guard he could get his hands on that served at this prison. Even the ones in Riddle’s pocket, or at least the ones he could tell were in Riddle’s pocket. There were almost certainly more that he didn’t know about. The man had always loved having people in the system under his thumb. All of them had said the exact same thing. Riddle was top dog. Anyone who’d tried to change that in the last couple years was met with a swift and violent end. Made an example of.

No one had gotten close enough to Riddle directly to even put a scratch on him.

A few more prisoners wouldn’t change anything.

“Why do you need them?” James asked him.

“For Harry,” Riddle said simply. “The ones who were fondest of him over the years, the ones he was fondest of. Familiar faces who would do anything for him. People to ensure he continues getting the education he needs. There are only two transfers, in the traditional sense,” Riddle said. “The rest of the names on the list will be new arrests coming in over the next few days.”

James stared at him, trying to wrap his head around what he’d just heard. Riddle was going to order his own men to get themselves arrested, just so they could watch over Harry.

He’d known for years that this man was obsessed with his son, but in this moment it was clear that he’d never understood exactly how deep that obsession went.

Christ, what was he doing? What had he done?


	2. The First Meeting

The police station, Harry had decided long ago, was boring.Really, really boring.There wasn't any school today, and his parents hadn't been able to find a sitter, so Harry'd been able to pick who he wanted to go in with.He'd chosen his mum, of course.Farm-a-col-a-gy was boring, yeah, but she had a _whiteboard_ in her office.And if he got really bored, he could always go bother Uncle Severus.

But then it turned out his Mummy had a meeting she couldn't miss, and that it would take too long to leave Harry alone in her office for, and that Uncle Severus would be in the meeting too so he couldn’t watch Harry either.

At least, that was the story his Mummy and Daddy told him.Harry had a feeling it was really because Uncle Sirius had made dispatch mad again a few days after Harry had made his choice and Mummy and Daddy were tired of the midnight calls. 

The dispatch people liked Harry, and his Daddy had no problem using him to smooth things over when he or Uncle Sirius had messed up.Or using him with his sergeant, or with the chief.Daddy and Uncle Sirius got in trouble a lot.

Still, if Harry was especially cute and got Daddy and Uncle Sirius out of trouble, they gave him ice cream. 

But he’d already been cute at the dispatch sergeant and Uncle Sirius gave him jelly beans.His Daddy had said Harry could sit with him at his desk, but the desk was _boring_.  

Harry was sitting on the bench where his Daddy could see him instead, watching the people come in and out.At least the people coming in and out were _interesting._

Most of them were old, and there was a lot of shouting, but it was always fun to watch. 

But the person Uncle Peter just brought in wasn’t old.He was big, yeah, but not a grown up, and he wasn’t yelling or shouting like the rest of them.And he wasn't in handcuffs like the rest of them were.

Daddy's rule was that Harry wasn't allowed to talk to any people in handcuffs.But this person wasn't in handcuffs, and he was just sitting on the bench, waiting.Looking bored, like Harry was.It looked like he'd have to wait for a long time, given how busy everybody seemed to be.

Harry went over to his daddy’s desk and grabbed four pieces of paper and his crayons.He took his jellybeans too.Thus armed, he made his way over to the bench.

“Excuse me,” Harry said.He would have tugged gently on the man’s sleeve to get his attention, but he couldn’t with his full hands.

The man looked over at him, and Harry gasped.He was so _pretty_.Though he looked sad.A little bit angry, but mostly sad.

“Yes?” The man asked, and his voice reminded Harry of the way chocolate tasted. 

“Are you Prince Charming?” Harry asked, the words popping out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I’m sorry?” the man asked, eyebrows climbing up his forehead the way Mummy’s did when he said something she thought was silly.

Still, now that Harry had a theory, he was going to stick to it.Interrogate the suspect, like his daddy did.

 "Prince Charming is the handsomest person in all the land," Harry informed him."And you're the prettiest person I've ever met."

The man was smiling now, and Harry was glad.He didn’t like it when people were sad, and being happy made his eyes sparkle in a nice way.

“I think there are a few other requirements for being Prince Charming that I fail to meet.”

“Like what?” Harry asked, hopping up on the bench next to him.

“Well, princes generally go out and rescue princesses, don’t they?”

That was _not_ true.Harry’s mummy had made very sure he knew that was not true.

“Princesses don’t need rescuing,” Harry told him.“And princesses can rescue princes just as much as princes can.And there’s no reason princes can’t rescue other princes or princesses rescue other princesses.But prices and princesses aren’t just supposed to help each other, they’re supposed to go on _adventures_!”

The man beside him laughed.“Those are all excellent points.I submit to your superior knowledge in the subject, and capitulate to your expertise.”

Harry stared up at him, confused.

“What’s that mean?”

 The man smiled again.

“That means that you’re right,” the man answered.

“Oh,” Harry said.“Good.So, since the princesses don’t matter, why can’t you be a prince?Don’t you go on adventures?”

“No,” the man said smiling.“Not yet, anyway.Though maybe once I’m done with school I will.No, I think the biggest reason I can’t be Prince Charming is the most obvious.” 

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

“Prince Charming is, by definition, a good guy,” the man responded. "By all standard definitions, anyway.Unless you're reading the original Grimm Fairytales, but you strike me as a little young.Though given that truly impassioned spiel about gender roles, I can't say I'd be entirely surprised.”

Harry ignored the last part of what he’d said, not understanding and knowing that it couldn’t really matter much anyway.“Why can’t you be a good guy?”

“I’m in a police station,” the man said.“A police officer brought me in.By most definitions, that means I did something bad.”

“Doing something bad doesn’t make you a bad person,” Harry answered.

The man stared at him.“That was a very profound statement, for someone so young.” 

“What did you do, anyway?” Harry asked.“You’re not in cuffs, so it couldn’t have been _too_ bad.”

“Vandalism," the man answered.

"What kind of vandalism?" Harry asked.There were lots of different kinds, from what Harry remembered. 

"Graffiti," the man responded, his eyebrows doing the forehead crawling thing again. 

Harry remembered that one, just because it was such a funny word.

"What did you draw a picture on?" Harry asked.

"My father's house," he answered.

The way he said father was the way Uncle Sirius talked about his mummy.And the sad and angry was back.

Harry did what he always did when Uncle Sirius got this kind of sad.He reached out and hugged the man next to him.

“I’m sorry about your daddy,” Harry said, arms wrapped as much around the man as he could manage. 

The man stiffened, but it was the kind of stiff that meant he just wasn’t used to being hugged.Harry just hugged him harder.If he didn’t get hugged very often, he just had to make sure that this hug made up for all the other ones than he hadn’t had. The man relaxed slowly, and Harry felt a hand come to rest softly on his back.As the hug continued, the man’s grip became tighter and tighter until Harry was pressed against his side.He was warm and smelled good, and Harry didn’t want to let go.

“Thank you,” the man above him said.“Thank you…” here he paused and laughed.

“What?” Harry asked. 

“I don’t know your name.”

Harry blushed.He should have introduced himself.That was the polite thing to do when meeting someone for the first time.

“Harry,” he murmured.“My name is Harry.”

The man pulled away and looked down at him, the sad gone and replaced with something nice and warm.

“Hello Harry,” he said, holding out his hand, “my name is Tom.”

Harry reached out and shook it the way he’d seen his parents do when meeting new people.“Hi Tom,” Harry said.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Harry,” Tom said with a smile.“And I don’t mean that often.”

Harry reached down and picked up one of his sheets of paper and a handful of crayons and offered them to Tom. 

“Why don’t you draw here, instead of on your daddy’s house?” Harry asked.“Since you want to draw today.Sides, Uncle Peter’s really busy, and if all you did was draw on your daddy’s house then it’s gonna take him awhile to get to you.This way you won’t get bored.” 

Tom let out a small chuckle.“An excellent idea, Harry.Will you stay here and draw with me?” 

Harry beamed. He almost never got company on days the station was busy like this.

“Yes!” he cheered happily.

The two eventually decided that the bench made an excellent table, and so they got off the bench and crouched on the floor instead, leaning over their drawings.Harry decided that he was gonna draw Tom, going on adventures.Because really, drawing on his daddy’s house wasn’t really so much bad as misbehaving.

Tom was drawing a snake.

“Is that what you drew on your daddy’s house?” Harry asked him as he colored in the sky on his picture. 

“Yes,” Tom said, doing something with the crayons that made it look like the snake had scales.“Tom Riddle doesn’t like snakes,” he said.

“Tom Riddle.Like your name is Tom?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Tom said, and there was something sour about his tone.“My mother named me after my father.” 

“I’m named after my daddy too,” Harry said simply.“Harry James Potter.James Potter, like my daddy, and Harry, after…” Harry paused, considering.All the greats got him confused.“After somebody else in the family.But...” and here Harry had to pause to think about how he would feel about being named after his daddy if he were in Tom’s shoes.“If I didn’t like my daddy, it would be hard.Being named after him, I mean.”

Harry paused, setting his blue crayon aside as he something about what Tom had said struck him as odd. 

“You said it was your daddy’s house,” Harry said.“So it’s not your house?You don’t live with your daddy?”

Tom got all stiff in that unhappy way, and Harry ignored his drawing to reach over and hug him again.

“I’m sorry.You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.My Uncle Severus says I ask too many questions. And then he says that thing about killing the cat by being curious.”

Tom was relaxing against him again.

“The thing everyone always forgets,” Tom told him, arms wrapped around Harry once again.“Is the second half of that phrase.Curiosity killed the cat, yes.But satisfaction brought him back.”

Harry beamed.“I’ve never heard that before!”

Now he knew exactly what to tell uncle Severus when he called him nosy.

“To answer your question, no, I don’t live with my father.I actually didn’t find out he was my father until a year or so ago.” 

“Did you live with your mummy, then?” Harry asked, pulling away from the hug to go back to his drawing.He knew it was easier for some people to answer questions if they were doing something else" 

Tom was apparently one of those people, because he shaded in another few bands before he answered.

“No, I don’t,” he answered.“My mother died giving birth to me.I grew up in a series of foster homes,” Tom said.

Harry had heard his daddy talk about the foster system before.It didn’t sound like a very nice place to be most of the time.Sometimes, Harry knew, it worked out okay.But sometimes it didn’t. For Tom, it sounded like it didn’t.

Harry leaned up against him, the way he did with his daddy when he’d had a bad day.Maybe he could distract Tom by keeping him talking about his story?

“What did you do?When you found out about your daddy, I mean?”

“I’d wanted to meet him for a long time, wanted to find my real family,” Tom said.“I did a lot of research, and then when I finally found him, when I finally introduced myself…”

Tom’s hand tightened so hard around the crayon that it snapped into pieces.Harry could feel the small disappointment swelling in him at the sight of the two pieces, but he tried to ignore it.Tom clearly had big problems, so Harry could be a big boy and not get upset.Besides, it wasn’t even his favorite one.Green was his favorite color, yes, but there was another shade that he liked more than the one Tom had broken, so it was okay.It was an accident.And Tom had to be pretty upset to break a crayon.

“He didn’t want me,” Tom said.“My father didn’t want me.He had hated my mother, and I had been an accident, and he left her _pregnant and alone_ and then he wouldn’t even _acknowledge_ me when I went to meet him.” 

There was another crack and the crayon broke into even more pieces.

 “So you drew on his house,” Harry said, understanding.

Tom was angry, and he wanted his daddy to pay attention to him.Or maybe he wanted to hurt his daddy the same way his daddy had hurt him.Still, he reached out and wrapped Tom in another hug.

“I’m sorry,” Harry told him.“I’m so sorry about your daddy.I wish he wasn’t so mean.”

Daddies and Mummies weren’t always good to their kids.Uncle Sirius and Uncle Severus had made sure Harry knew that, even if they never told Harry how he knew that.On days his daddy and Uncle Sirius found kids whose daddies and mummies weren’t good to them, they both always looked really sad and hugged Harry a lot .

“Me too, Harry,” Tom said, his big hand resting on Harry’s back.“Me too.” 

“My mummy and daddy are really good,” Harry said.“Maybe we could share?”

Tom smiled and let out a small chuckle, pulling out of the hug and looking Harry in the eye when he talked to him. 

“That’s very nice of you, Harry.But I’m almost an adult, now.Besides, I don’t think your mum and dad would be too excited about having a delinquent in the house.” 

Harry was torn between two different questions, but eventually made a choice.After all, his mummy or daddy could always tell him was a delinquent was.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Seventeen,” Tom answered.“I’ll be eighteen in a few months, though." 

“Wow,” Harry responded.“That’s a LOT!”

Tom’s mouth did this weird half-smiling thing that Harry thought looked cool.He tried his best to memorize how it looked so that he could try it himself later.

“Maybe to you, but not to many other people.How old are you, Harry?”

“Five and a quarter,” Harry answered right away.“I have a summer birthday, so I’m the littlest in my class by a lot.”

“Five and a quarter.So you’re birthday is in July?” Tom asked.

“Yep!” Harry said happily.“July 31st!When’s your birthday?”

“December 31st,” Tom answered.

“Different month, but the same day!” Harry said, excited that they had this in common.Then something else occurred to him.“You were born on new years eve?”

Tom nodded. 

“Wow!That’s so cool!” Harry said, bouncing up and down a little in his excitement. 

Tom smiled down at him.“I’m glad you think so.”

Harry turned his attention back to his drawing and watched Tom do the same, only to grimace a little at the pieces of crayon that now littered his paper.

“I’m sorry about your crayon,” Tom said, picking the pieces up carefully.“I could fix it, if you wanted.I’m something of an expert at fixing broken things.” 

Harry thought about it for a minute, but shook his head.

“No, it’s okay,” Harry said.“It’s just one crayon.It’s not even my favorite color.You can throw it away, or keep it if you want to fix and use it.” 

Tom put the pieces in his pocket with a weird look on his face.Harry took a deep breath, looking at Tom’s picture.He sighed, reaching out for his favorite shade of green.

“Here,” he said, passing it over to Tom.“So you can finish your snake.But be careful with this one, please.It’s my favorite.”

“I will be,” Tom said smiling.“Thank you for trusting me with your favorite crayon, Harry.”He began shading in the snake.“Oh, no wonder it’s your favorite. It’s the same color as your eyes.”

“Really?” Harry said, hopeful.“I think it looks like my mummy’s eyes, which are the prettiest color _ever_.”

“Well, if this crayon is the same color as your mum’s eyes, then I can tell you that they are most definitely the same color.”

Harry beamed at him. He always liked hearing how much he looked like his mummy or his daddy. 

The snake looked even prettier in that color than it had in the pale green he was using before. 

“I don’t understand why people don’t like snakes,” Harry said.“They’re so pretty, and they do that funny thing with their tongues.And they come in such awesome colors.”

“You know Harry, I don’t understand why people don’t like snakes either.I got kicked out of one of my foster homes because I was keeping garter snakes in a shoebox under the bed.”

“I really want a snake,” Harry said, leaning against Tom again as he focused on coloring his own picture, “but my mummy and daddy don’t like them at all, so they keep telling me I’m too young to have a pet.”

“As soon as I turn eighteen, I’m moving into my own place and I’m buying a pet snake,” Tom told him. 

“That’s so cool!” Harry crowed.“I got to touch a snake at a petting zoo, once. The guy even let me hold it.It was awesome.It would be so fun to do that every day. I still like seeing them, even if Mummy and Daddy won’t take me to the petting zoo to touch them anymore.But the reptile house at the zoo has a lot of really cool ones.What kind of snake do you want to get?”

“I haven’t decided yet.There are a few different breeds I’m considering.Probably some sort of python or boa.”

“You like spots more than stripes?” Harry asked.

Tom smiled at him.“You really know your snakes, don’t you Harry?” 

“I just pay attention to the zoo labels,” Harry said.“I made Uncle Severus read them to me over and over again.His eyebrows got all frowny, by the end, but I just looked cute at him and he kept going even though he was pretending to be mad.”

“Looked cute at him?” Tom asked, one of his eyebrows crawling up. 

“I get lots of practice, cause I need to get Daddy and Uncle Sirius out of trouble.Like this, see?”

He gave Tom his best cute face.

“That is a _remarkable_ tool,” Tom said, staring at him with a smile.“A very cute face indeed. No wonder it gets your dad and his…brother? Out of trouble.”

“Partner,” Harry corrected him.“The detective that he works with.But they’ve been best friends forever.He and Uncle Remus and Uncle Peter.”

“And your Uncle Severus? The one who takes you to see the snakes because your parents don’t want to?”

“He’s mummy’s best friend,” Harry replied.“But he and Daddy and Uncle Sirius don’t get along at all, so I have to...Mummy has a special word for it, but I go in and make them pay attention to me instead of glaring at each other.”His insides got all tight.“I don’t like it when they fight,” he said quietly.

Harry didn’t want to think about this anymore. 

“You want it to be scary, right?” Harry asked, pointing at the drawing.“You used a snake because you liked it, but also because you knew your daddy didn’t.”

Tom nodded. 

“What if it was coming out of a skull?” Harry asked.“Wouldn’t that be much scarier?” 

Tom looked at it, considering.“That’s an interesting idea, Harry.”

“Here, why don’t you finish coloring this snake for me?I have a few ideas I want to try out.Can you pass me a new piece of paper and the black crayon?”

Harry did, pleased at the timing.He’d just finished his own picture.

By the time he was done coloring in Tom’s snake, Tom had sketched of a bunch of different snakes coming out of skulls.

“Wow,” Harry said, staring at them.“You’re a really good drawer!”

“Thank you,” Tom said, setting the black crayon back down.“Now, Harry, I’m trying to pick a design to use for the logo of my club.The skull suggestion was an excellent one, so I trust your taste in this.Which one do you like best?”

Harry looked at all the different designs, and he couldn’t help being impressed again.They were all _really_ good.There were a bunch.Some of them just had the snake wrapped around the skull, and some of them had the snake coming out of it, like from the eye socket or from the mouth. 

It was a hard choice, but the more Harry looked at them, the more there was one he liked more than the others. 

“That one,” he said, pointing to one of the ones with the snake coming out of its mouth.“They’re all really good, but I like that one best.” 

Tom looked where he was pointing, and cocked his head to the side in a considering manner. 

“You’re right,” Tom said at last.“That one is the best.An excellent choice.”

“Why don’t you draw it bigger?” Harry asked.“Just so you know what it looks like by itself?”

“A fine idea,” Tom said.He then looked over and smiled.“You’re doing a fantastic job coloring that in.Why don’t I draw a bigger version of the mark and you can decide what colors things are going to be and help me color it in.”

Harry nodded enthusiastically, excited by the idea.

He reached for a fresh piece of paper, only to have his hand stop on his own finished drawing.Since it was of Tom, it was only right that he give it to Tom.Later, Harry decided.Once they’d finished Tom’s drawing. 

He passed Tom his piece of paper and watched avidly as Tom drew the outlines of the skull and the snake.When he was done, he looked to Harry, a small smile and an expectant look on his face.

“What colors?” he asked.

“The skull should be white,” Harry said, “and since the paper is white, we don’t need to color that.”

“Very true,” Tom said.“So then, that just leaves the snake.What color do you think that should be?”

“Green” Harry said definitively.“It should be green.Like the other one.”

“Green it is,” Tom said.

“But with blue spots,” Harry said, after thinking a minute.They only had the one green crayon now, and it wasn’t fair for them not to color it together.“You do the spots,” he said, passing the blue crayon to Tom. 

“A green tree python,” Tom said with a smile.“Perfect.”

They colored happily in silence until the snake was done.Harry sat back on his heels and looked at their work, a wide smile on his face.

“Wow,” he said softly.

Tom stared at it with an unreadable expression on his face before he smiled.“It’s rather perfect, isn’t it?” 

Harry smiled before sitting up again, putting his crayons in a neat pile before putting them back in their box.He then put the box on top of the unused paper before gathering all the finished drawings together, including his own, and passing them to Tom.

“Harry, this one is yours,” Tom said, trying to give it back to him.

He shook his head. 

“No,” Harry said.“Its yours now. I want you to have it.”

Tom’s look of absolute surprise made his heart ache, and he was suddenly more glad than ever he’d decided to give the drawing to Tom.The look on his face made everything more than worth it. 

“In that case,” Tom said, and he pulled out the picture of the mark he and Tom had designed together and passed it to Harry, “I want you to have this.It’s only right, since you gave me something, and you’re the one who helped me design it in the first place.”

Harry took it and smiled.He really, _really_ liked it, and the fact that a seventeen year old thought Harry had good ideas and had helped him do it made him feel special, important.

He put it gently, carefully in the pile of his stuff, being sure not to crinkle or crease anything.He hopped back up on the bench, staring at it happily.

Tom sat back down beside him, and Harry could hear the crackling noise of folding paper.Harry jerked his head around and let out a small sigh of relief when he saw that it was Tom’s sketches that the other boy had folded up and put in his pocket. 

“This is a fantastic picture, Harry.Is that me?”

Harry nodded.

“It looks like there’s a story behind this picture.Can you tell me about it?” Tom asked, holding the picture out in front of him so he could look at it better.

Harry snuck his way under Tom’s arm and situated himself in Tom’s lap so that he could see the picture too before he began explaining about Prince Tom and the adventures he went on. 

And then Tom joined in and offered his same interpretations of those events, but without Tom being good.It was really interesting, and a lot of fun, and Harry learned the word ‘anti-hero’, and at some point Prince Harry showed up and the two were going on adventures together.

Harry’d never had so much fun at the police station before.In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever had that much fun _ever_.

“Harry,” Daddy called.

Harry jerked his head away from the picture and to his daddy, who was standing over by the desk, wearing an amused expression on his face.Harry was excited to see him, but he didn’t want to leave.Harry was pretty sure there was only one reason his dad was looking for him.

“What time is it?” Harry whispered at Tom, maneuvering a little bit so that he couldn’t see his daddy, the picture between the two of them.

Tom took hand that wasn’t wrapped around Harry’s waist, the one that was holding the picture, and looked at the watch on his wrist. 

“Just after five,” Tom said.“I take it that detective over there who looks remarkably like you calling your name is your father?” 

“Yeah,” Harry said, slumping down further. 

If his daddy was looking for him, and it was after five, that meant it was time to go home.Normally, nothing would have Harry more excited.But leaving the station meant leaving Tom, and that wasn’t something Harry wanted to do.

“He can still see you, you know,” Tom said, amused.

“Shh!” Harry told him accusingly.“I can’t see him, so he can’t see me.”

Harry heard footsteps, and then his daddy’s laugh much, much closer than he had been before. 

“That’s not quite the way it works, kiddo,” his daddy said, and Harry could still hear the laugh in his voice.

Harry sighed.He'd been spotted and there was nothing to do about it.He sat upright again, but made no move to get off Tom's lap. 

"Hi Daddy," he said, feeling a little glum.

"You're usually much more happy to see me on days at the station," Daddy said, amused."Who's this?"

"This is my friend Tom," Harry said, feeling a little more energetic now that he had the chance to introduce his new friend to his daddy.“Even though he’s really pretty, he’s not a prince, he’s an anti-hero.He and his daddy are like Sirius and his mummy, so Tom drew on his house.He’s my new friend, and we’re going to go on adventures together!”

"Is that so?" Daddy asked, sounding more amused than anything else."Well, you're not going on any of those adventures today.Come here, kiddo."

Harry didn't actively protest, but he didn'tmake any move to head towards his daddy either.Instead he tried to burrow his way even further into Tom's lap.He was comfortable, and if he moved, he might never get to see Tom again.Unless he maybe got in trouble again.And as much as he wanted to see Tom again, he didn’t want him to get into trouble anymore.

“Harry,” Tom said softly. 

Harry turned and looked up over his shoulder.Tom was staring down at him with warm eyes.Harry wasn't sure if they were blue or grey, but they were pretty.Much nicer looking than they’d been when Harry had first come over.They’d been cold then.Like ice.They were more like the color of the sky now.

“Today was a lot of fun,” Tom told him, reaching up and rubbing Harry’s hair. Not quite ruffling it like his daddy or Uncle Sirius did, but close.“Much more fun than I ever would have expected.I can’t thank you enough for keeping me company.But it sounds like its time for you to go, now.”

“I don’t want to,” Harry said, turning around and standing up in Tom’s lap and throwing his arms around Tom’s neck.“Cause if I go I’m not gonna see you again." 

“Oh Harry,” Tom said, and he felt Tom’s arm wrap around him in a hug.“You never know.People run into each other again all the time.It might not be tomorrow, or next week or even next month, but we’ll see each other again.And even if we don’t,” Tom said, his other hand running gently through Harry’s hair, “we’re always going to be friends.Yes? 

Harry nodded against Tom’s neck.

The world shifted, and Harry felt Tom’s arm move from around his waist to under his butt to support him better.

"Here," Tom said, "I'm going to hand you off to your Dad, and then you can cash in on whatever reward it is you get when you manage to get Detective Potter out of trouble, okay?"

His voice changed, and it was clear that the next words were meant for Harry's daddy, not Harry.

"I think this belongs to you," he said, and Harry felt his daddy's arms wrap around him too as Tom passed him over.

"As anyone with kids will tell you, it's the other way around," his daddy said in response. 

Harry sighed. It was clear that he was going to have to leave Tom, and he really didn’t want to be carried.He was a big boy now

“Put me down,” he told his daddy.“I can stand.”

His daddy did, and Harry crossed his arms over his chest, still upset that he was leaving.

“Here,” Tom said, crouching down.“I believe these belong to you?”

Harry nodded and took the pieces of paper and crayons that Tom was holding out to him, holding them carefully against his chest and being careful not to wrinkle any of them.

Tom smiled and him before straightening up and looking at Daddy.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on him,” Daddy said.“I’m sorry about that.”

“It was my pleasure, actually.Children don’t usually like me, nor I them.Harry made for a very refreshing change of pace on both counts.”

“So, who you waiting on, Tom?” 

“Officer Pettigrew,” Tom responded. 

“If my Harry-to-English is still working, its just a vandalism charge, right?Graffiti?”

Tom nodded.

“Alright, I can write that up for you real quick, and then it’s just a matter of waiting for your parents to come get you.”

“Foster parents,” Tom corrected softly.“And honestly, that’s probably going to take longer than Officer Pettigrew ever will.”

“Tell you what,” Daddy said after a pause.“I’ll get you written up, and then we’ll give you a ride back to your foster parent’s.Sound good?”

“Thank you, Detective Potter.That’s very kind of you,” Tom said.

“Yay!” Harry cheered launching himself at Tom’s legs and hugging them.“You get to ride with me and Daddy!”

After that was lots of boring paperwork stuff, but Harry didn’t pay much attention.He got to sit on Tom’s lap, though, which was awesome, and it turned out Tom liked all the jelly bean flavors Harry didn’t, so they happily shared while Daddy was getting notes from Uncle Peter so he could give Tom his court date.

Tom sat in the back with Harry, and they chatted some more until they got to Tom’s foster house.

“This is me,” Tom told him.“Which means it’s time to say goodbye.”

Harry darted forward and gave Tom another hug.

“Be good,” he told him firmly. 

Tom laughed.

“It’s a little late for that,” Tom said, grinning down at him.“What I can do is promise not to end up in the police station again any time soon.Will that do?”

Harry thought about it seriously for a long moment before nodding.

“Excellent,” Tom said with a smile.He reached out and wrapped his arms around Harry in a long hug.“Thank you, Harry.This afternoon went much better than I could ever have hoped, and I’m very glad to have met you and become your friend.”

“Me too,” Harry said.

Tom made his way out of the car and partially closed the door before turning back around.

“I won’t ever forget you, Harry,” Tom said.

The door closed before Harry could respond, but something about Tom’s words and his face when he’d said them made his chest feel funny.He reached over to the middle seat and picked up the picture he and Tom had made together, clutching it to his chest.

He wouldn’t forget Tom either, Harry vowed to himself.And they’d always be friends.Just like Tom said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being AWOL for so long. I've started working on my PhD and between classes and my responsibilities as a TA my free time is basically non-existent. Still, I'm starting to get into the swing of things, so I do have the chance to write at least most weekends.
> 
> Good Intentions gets the first update just because I had the most written, but I think I may have something up for college au either next week or the week after.
> 
> Regardless, thank you all so much for your kind comments and patience. Hopefully this doesn't disappoint.

The first time James Potter had a conversation with Tom Riddle without Harry present was burned in his memory.It had felt like nothing at the time.It _had_ been nothing at the time.

He was sitting at his desk, drudging through yet another mind-numbing round of paperwork with only a half hour left in his shift.  At least in theory.  Shifts were sort of a nebulous concept at a police station.  Sirius had reached the point of boredom where he was attempting to balance various chachkies from his desk on his nose.  


“Detective Potter?” the officer working the desk called out. “There’s someone up front here to see you.”  


James was torn.  On the one hand, this could be something relatively minor that would give him justifiable excuse not to work on paperwork for the rest of his shift.  On the other hand, this could turn into something that would make sure his shift didn’t end when he wanted it to.  


Still, it wasn’t as if he could justify _not_ going up, since he was in the office and they were waiting for a break on a couple different cases.Sighing, he pushed back from the desk.  


“So help me, Prongs, if our shift doesn’t end at five like it’s supposed to because of this, I’m going to skin you alive,” Sirius told him.  


“And leave Harry fatherless?” James asked.  “No, worse.  Doom him to Severus as a stepfather?  You’d never be that cruel.”  


Sirius’s horrified face at the last comment had James laughing as he made his way out of the bullpen and to the front of the station.  


Waiting by the desk was a vaguely familiar looking teenager.  Good looking kid, flirting casually with the desk officer while he waited.  It took him just a minute, but he placed him.  The teen from yesterday who’d kept Harry company.  


“Hey,” James said as he made his way towards the desk, “Tom, right?”  


“Detective Inspector Potter,” the kid said as he straightened up, offering his hand.  


James reached out and shook it.  Firm, but not too forceful, and his palms weren’t sweaty.  A perfect handshake.  


“So, what brings you back to our neck of the woods?  Commit any more misdemeanors lately?”  


Tom at least had the good grace to look somewhat abashed.  


“I was hoping you could pass something on to Harry for me,” Tom said, shrugging the messenger bag off his shoulder and reaching inside it.  From the depths of his bag, Tom pulled a package of crayons.  A Crayola 24 pack, brand new.  


“You see, I broke one of his crayons yesterday, and though he did an admirable job of trying to hide it, I think he was fairly upset,” Tom said, a hand coming up to ruffle the hair at the back of his head.

“I just wanted to make it up to him,” Tom said.  “So, could you make sure he gets these?  And tell him I said thanks, for yesterday.  That wait would have been extremely dull without his company.”  


James glanced down at the open messenger bag and saw a piece of paper sticking out a little bit, one covered in colors drawn by a very familiar hand.  Harry’s drawing.  The one he’d watched his son give Tom yesterday.  He’d kept it.  Not just kept it, but kept it with him.

Troubled kid.  In and out of foster homes, over a dozen over his lifetime.  The graffiti had been on the house of the dad who’d abandoned him.  James had caught a glimpse of him when Peter had first brought him into the station.  Angry, sullen – he reminded James of the way Sirius would look after running into his parents or his brother once he’d moved in with the Potters.  Ready to lash out, perhaps in more dangerous ways than just graffiti.

But when James had come over to collect Harry, he’d found an entirely different kid.  Smiling, laughing.  And Tom had been so _good_ with Harry.  


Maybe all Tom needed was a little direction, a little grounding.  


“Tell you what,” James said.  “My shift is over in,” he glanced at his watch, “twenty minutes.  If you want, why don’t to hang around here, hitch a ride home with me, and then thank Harry and give him your present in person?”  


The solemn looking boy brightened noticeably.  


“I would appreciate that,” Tom said with a small smile.

“Grab a bench, and I’ll finish up a few things and call my wife to let her know to expect somebody else,” James told him.  


“Thank you again, sir,” Tom replied, making his way over to the bench across from the desk.  The bench, he noticed with a small bit of amusement, where he and Harry had been sitting the day before.  


James made his way back to the bullpen, to find Sirius staring up at him curiously.  


“What was that about?” he asked.  


“We’re going have one more for dinner tonight,” he said simply.  “Hang on, just eavesdrop on my phone call with Lily so that I don’t have to explain this a bunch of times.  You can ask questions afterwards.”  


James dropped back into his desk chair and scooted it back towards his desk after it rolled back a little.  He picked up his office phone and dialed the number for Lily’s cell using muscle memory alone.  


“Hello?”  


Even all these years later, hearing her voice always made him melt a little inside.  He still couldn’t believe he’d managed to trick her into marrying him, and he prayed every day that she didn’t come to her senses.  


“Hi, Lily,” James said, and based on the disgusted faces Sirius was making, he sounded exactly as sappy as he was feeling.  


“Hey, honey,” she said, and James could picture exactly what she was doing just based on the sound of her voice.  The middle of modeling something, he guessed, and just waiting for it to wrap up before she started to make her way home.  “You’re coming on time, right?  No big breaks or last minute murders?”  


That was what James thought of as her ‘or else’ tone.  He found himself very, _very_ glad that for once he hadn’t fallen under any of those categories.  


“No, nothing like that.  I just wanted to let you know we’re going to have an extra plate set at dinner.”  James winced at the informative tone of his voice, and scrambled to qualify what he meant.  “If that’s alright with you, I mean.”  


“It’s no problem,” Lily said, laughter in her voice, “you’re the one cooking, after all.  Who decided to drop by? Someone else on the force?  Remus?”  


“Nobody you know,” James said with a wry smile, “but someone you’ve certainly heard of.  I’m sure you remember Tom, from Harry’s conversation at dinner last night.”  


At that Lily let out an inelegant sort.  Harry had talked of almost nothing else since the two had met.  


“After yesterday, I think it would be impossible to forget Tom anytime soon,” Lily responded.  


“Well, it seems that Tom is just as smitten with Harry as Harry is with him.”  


Lily laughed aloud at that.  


“I find that very hard to imagine.”  


“Well, that’s because you didn’t see them together,” James replied.  “Besides, Tom just walked into my precinct with a brand new box of crayons to make up for the one he apparently broke yesterday, and I spotted Harry’s drawing in his bag.”  


James took a deep breath.  


“Lily, Tom’s only got the one charge, and it was vandalism on the house of the father who abandoned him and his mother.  I just…I think he’s a good kid who just needs a little grounding.  And I really think mentoring Harry would help him.”  


James waited with baited breath while Lily thought on the other side of the line.  


“If you think that we can help this boy, that Harry can help this boy, well then, by all means let’s help him.”  James could actually hear her smile through the phone, "Besides, if he ends up working out, we are in desperate need of a regular babysitter."  


James laughed, heart full.  Lily was a wonderful woman, always willing to see the best in people, always wiling to give second chances.  The fact that they had ended up married was more than proof of that.  


“You still picking Harry up from aftercare?” James asked.  “Or do you want me to do it?”  


“I’ll do it,” she replied.  “I’m on my way out now.  Besides, this way I get to see his face when he reunites with his Prince Charming.”   


James snorted, unable to help himself.  


“Tell me,” Lily asked, mischievous tone of voice, “is he really as handsome as Harry says?”   


“As a solid two on the Kinsey scale, I am more than willing to admit the boy is classically handsome to an unbelievable degree.  Let me consult with a four, though, as that opinion might hold more weight.”  


James turned at looked at Sirius, making a show of covering the mouthpiece of his desk phone even though everyone involved knew it did next to nothing.  


“Lily wants to know if the bloke Harry fancies is as hot as Harry seems to think he is.  I say probably, but we need a second opinion.”  


Sirius stared at him before he burst out laughing.  


“Oh, hell yes.  This I have _got_ to see.”  


“He’s sitting on a bench up front,” James said, jerking his thumb in the appropriate direction.  


Sirius scurried off, an inappropriate expression of glee on his face.  James uncovered the mouthpiece while keeping an eye on his partner.

“Our consultant is making his judgment now.  And judging by the expression on his face,” James said, watching his partner’s eyes widen somewhat comically even as a wide smile broke out on his face, “I think that he and I are probably in agreement on our assessment of Harry’s assessment.”

“Harry has impeccable taste in men,” Sirius said, pushing his face against James’ so that he could talk into the mouthpiece as well.“At least when it comes to looks, anyway.Which is more than I can say about his mother.”

“Hey!” James called out, offended.

Lily laughed.  “Does that mean your own taste is equally terrible?”

James stared at Sirius, betrayed.  That drunken make-out was supposed to be a secret they would take to the grave.

“Traitor!” he hissed at him.

“I have no secrets from your wife,” Sirius said seriously before he ruined it all with a bark of laughter.

“You two sort out this domestic and I’ll see you both at home,” Lily said.  “I should leave now to pick up Harry.  I’m looking forward to seeing this Tom in person.”

“Love you,” James said.  “Drive safe.”

“Love you too,” Lily replied.

James knew he had a rather stupid smile on his face when he hung up the phone, but he truly couldn’t help it.  No matter how many times they said it, it only felt more true each one.

“Five oh three!” Sirius crowed happily as soon as James had hung up the phone.  “Free at last!”

“Any questions from the peanut gallery?” James asked him petulantly.  He was going to be pissed about the betrayal for a while, and wasn’t feeling particularly generous at the moment.

“Why?” Sirius asked him.  “I mean, I know you told Lily you think that maybe mentoring this Tom could help keep him on the straight and narrow, but…there are lots of kids in and out of the station who could use some grounding.  Why this one?”

“I’ve never seen Harry light up like that,” James said simply.  “And, well, Harry said Tom reminds him of you.”

James sometimes had nightmares about what would have happened to Sirius if he hadn’t had the Potters to run to.  Tom had instead had a series of children’s homes.  He’d had trouble when he was younger and he’d become trouble when he was older.

Maybe a second generation of Potters could help a different troubled kid.

Sirius’s face made it clear that he knew what James was thinking.

“Fair enough,” he said at last.  “Maybe I have some valuable insight I can pass on,” he said, puffing up his chest.

“Maybe.  I mean the whole reason I’m doing this is to make sure we don’t end up with another one of you,” James said with a smirk.

Sirius put his hand over his heart and made an exaggerated wounded face.  James pushed back from his desk with a laugh and grabbed his bag, already packed, and the jacket draped over his chair.

“Come on, drama queen,” James said.  “Lets go grab a delinquent and make my son’s night.”

“Oh yes,” Sirius said, unholy glee in his eyes.  “This is something I absolutely have to see for myself.”

James made his way over towards the front of the station while Sirius gathered up his stuff, not having had the foresight to pack himself up ahead of time, too absorbed in the delicate and pressing work of balancing.

Tom was sitting right where James had left him, a textbook open on his lap, brow furrowed deep, all his attention seemingly fixed on the material he was reading.  But James saw the way his fingers kept fiddling with the crayons beside him on the bench, and James couldn’t help the small upturn of his lips at the sight.

The book gave him a minute’s pause, though.  Organic Chemistry, according to the cover, worn and secondhand though it was.  Way above the level of a senior in high school, from what James knew.  And James happened to know rather a lot about chemistry curriculum from his years pursuing his wife.  University level stuff, if his memory wasn’t failing him.  He doubted it was; it had been less than a decade ago.

Smart kid, apparently, if he understood even a tenth of what he was reading.  The uniform, which Tom had not been wearing the day before, he now recognized as belonging to a local prestigious public school.  James had a pretty good sense of what Tom’s foster family’s finances looked like from what he’d seen of both the inside and outside of their house the day before, so there was no question in his mind that Tom was attending on some sort of scholarship or with the benefit of some sortoffinancial aid.  Probably both.

If he was reading that far ahead, maybe Lily and Severus had some old books he could use.  And if his interest went beyond the scientific, he was sure putting him in touch with Remus would be a good move.

James walked over, and Tom looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps and shut his book, putting it carefully in his bag before flipping the messenger bag closed and fastening the clasps fastidiously.  The pack of crayons, however, he held firmly in his hands as he got to his feet.

"Ready to go?" James asked him.

Tom simply nodded in response.

"We just need to wait on my partner," James told him.  "I gave him a lift in and he's joining us for dinner.  I don't think Severus is coming, and Remus has a night class this semester, so it should just be the five of us tonight."

Tom only nodded in response.  Taciturn boy, apparently.

Sirius appeared then, as if the mere mention of him had summoned him.  Like a dog being called.

"Tom, this is Sirius Black," James said, gesturing and taking a step back.  "Sirius, this is Tom Riddle."

Tom reached out and gave Sirius the same handshake he'd given James earlier.  “Detective Inspector Black.  I've heard a lot about you.  Harry is very fond of you."

Sirius visibly preened, and James had to fight not to roll his eyes.

"Of course he is,” Sirius said smugly.  "I'm his favorite Uncle, after all."

James clapped his hands together before Sirius could derail things entirely, as he so often did.

“Right, let’s get this show on the road.  Tom, you called your foster parents right?  Let them know you were going to be home late?”

A barely there grimace crossed Tom’s features before the boy carefully put on a polite mask.  “I doubt it will be an issue, but if you’d like me to, Detective Potter, it won’t take more than a minute.”

Tom made his way over to a fairly secluded corner of the station, nominally for privacy, but James and Sirius knew every corner of the station backwards and forwards, and it only took a few unobtrusive steps to reach the perfect corner for eavesdropping on the area where Tom stood.

Detectives never really passed up the chance for information.

Judging by the length of the pause after the boy put the phone to his ear – cheap, probably something he’d bought himself from money he scrounged up from somewhere – the phone had rung several times before going to voicemail.

“I have a dinner invitation for tonight, so I won’t be back until at least ten,” Tom said brusquely.  “On the off chance you notice, this is to let you know not to worry, as unlikely as that is, and that you don’t have to worry about saving me anything to eat, which is something you’re more likely to care about.”

Tom flipped his phone shut with a sharp clacking noise and closed his eyes, breathing carefully before opening them again and roughly shoving his phone into his pocket.  Another deep breath, and then he turned back around, a tight smile in place.

"All taken care of,” Tom said.

“Alright then,” James said, rubbing his hands together.  “Let’s get going.”

The ride to the house was a subtle interrogation disguised as small talk.   By the end of the twenty-minute drive, James had found out that he’d been right about Tom’s school, both where he attended and how he could afford to go there.  He was knee-deep in university applications when not out vandalizing the property of his deadbeat dad.  He was taking a ridiculous number of A levels, and James could tell from the way he talked about school that he was _still_ bored out of his mind.  Smart, bored, and angry.  Never really a good combination in James’ experience.  But hopefully they’d be able to help with all that.

By the end of the ride, James couldn’t help but find himself charmed by the boy in the backseat.  Tom was well-spoken, well-read, and an engaging conversation partner.  It wasn’t long before James and Sirius were recounting some of their favorite stories of Harry’s antics thus far, a conversation topic that was both safe and greatly enjoyed by everyone.

“This is us,” James said as he turned the key in the ignition.  “Lily’s already home, which means Harry is as well.  I recon you two will have a good, oh, twenty minutes while I get dinner on.”

“Thank you for this, Detective Potter,” Tom said.

James waved his thanks off before climbing out of the car.  Tom had already made his way out and was halfway to the door, eager for all that he was clearly trying not to show it.  James shot Sirius a look, grinning.  This was going to work.  He was sure of it.

James made his way to the door, pushing it open and gesturing for Tom to follow him with a tilt of his head before heading into the entryway.

“I’m home!” James called.

The sound of footsteps, and then Lily appeared in the entryway, hair still pulled back in the loose bun she always wore in the lab, the wisps at her temples a testament to her long day.  Her green eyes were sparkling, an anticipatory grin on her face.  James gave her one in return, riding the familiar high he always got before executing a particularly well-planned prank.

“Harry, I’ve got something for you!” James called back towards the sunroom that was slowly mutating into Harry’s playroom as his toys conquered more and more ground.

The distinctive and familiar sound of small feet racing across the house followed, and in far less time than it should have taken him, Harry poked his head into the hallway.

“Hello, Harry,” Tom said warmly.

Harry made a noise at a frequency only dogs could hear before launching himself at Tom with enough force to send the teenager staggering backwards.  Once he had recovered his footing and managed to wipe the surprise off his face, Tom awkwardly reached out and returned Harry’s embrace as best he could given their mismatched heights. “You’re here!” Harry babbled over and over again, words beginning to run into each other.  “You’re here you’re here yourehere!”

“I told you we’d see each other again, didn’t I?” Tom said with a soft smile as he reached down and tentatively tousled Harry’s hair.

James saw Harry’s head, buried in Tom’s stomach, bob up and down.

“Harry,” Lily said softly, “why don’t you let go of Tom for a moment?  I think he has something for you.”

James could tell just by looking at her face that she was already sold on the idea.  He’d been keeping half an eye on her during their reunion and had seen the way she had softened when watching the two of them.  She was already giving Tom that soft look she gave all of her strays, warmth and concern and calculation all wrapped in one.

James once again found himself in awe of the fact that he'd somehow managed to trick her into loving him.

Tom knelt down so that he and Harry were on the same level before pulling his satchel over his shoulder.

"I broke your crayon yesterday," Tom said, reaching into his bag.  "I'm very sorry about that, Harry."

"That's okay," Harry said, but James watched his smile dim somewhat.  "You were having a really bad day.  And it was an accident."

"That's very kind of you, Harry," Tom said, expression solemn.  "But still.  I wanted to thank you for everything that you did yesterday.  So, as a thank you, and to make up for yesterday, I'd really like you to have these."

Tom handed Harry the box of crayons.  It would have been a sweet gesture from anyone, but given Tom's financial situation, it was an even more meaningful gesture.

Harry didn't know any of that though.  Still, it didn't stop his entire face from lighting up once he saw exactly what Tom holding.  Reaching out he grabbed the box of crayons clutched them to his chest, a wide smile on his face.

"I know green is your favorite color," Tom said.

Green was indeed Harry's favorite color.  Looking closer, James realized that the entire box consisted only of green crayons.  James found himself even more impressed with the teen.  Getting a box of crayons was one thing.  Getting a box consisting only of Harry's favorite color was another thing entirely.

He shot Lily a look and found her looking at Tom with a fond look on her face.  Clearly she'd been won over already.  James couldn't really blame her.  Tom was incredibly charming.  The fact that he genuinely cared about Harry only served to underline that.

"Thank you!" Harry all but shouted before launching himself at Tom once again, wrapping him in a tight hug.

Tom reached out, hesitantly placing his hand at the small of Harry's back and hugging him closer.

The uncertainty, the hesitation was somewhat heartbreaking.  It was clear that Tom had no real experience with physical displays of affection.  This, more than anything cemented James' choice.

"Harry?" James called once it became clear the hug wasn't going to end anytime soon.

Harry pulled back, the box of crayons still clutched tightly in his hands, looking up at James with wide green eyes filled with happiness.

"Why don't you take Tom and head out to the sunroom until dinner's ready, okay?" James asked.

"Okay!"  Harry crowed cheerfully.  He reached out and grabbed Tom's hand before tugging on it none too gently.  "Come on, Tom.  I can show you all my toys!"

Tom merely blinked once before standing, letting Harry drag him off without protest.  There was a small, fond smile on his lips.

"You were right," Lily said, coming over to lean against James.  "He's just as smitten."

There was a sudden weight at James' back, and if he wasn't already braced against Lily's weight he would have fallen as someone draped themselves over both of them.

"It's almost appallingly adorable, isn't it?" Sirius asked from where he was draped against both their backs.

"That boy..." Lily said, staring through the glass doors out into the sunroom where Tom was sitting crosslegged on the floor, a bemused expression on his lips as Harry approached him with toy after toy from his collection.  "You did a good thing here, James."

It was the worst mistake he ever made in his life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is a terrible influence, to the surprise of absolutely no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we don't actually know the first names of any of Tom's school minions, so I'm just making it up. Also, some relationships have been shifted a little to better work with what I have in mind.
> 
> Not edited, as I have a flight to catch, so forgive any mistakes.

Harry held Tom’s hand tightly as they walked through the streets, practically skipping as Tom lead him wherever they were going. Harry used to dread the end of school. With the hours his parents worked, the end of the school day was far from the end of Harry’s day. He’d always gone to the afterschool club, and was usually one of the last kids to get picked up.

The afterschool club was even more boring that his dad’s office, most of the time.  The snacks weren’t very good, and while Harry always had fun running around at the beginning, he didn’t have very many friends there.  The bigger kids were always on the swings, so Harry never got a turn, and Neville always left at four thirty, meaning Harry was all by himself for almost two hours before either his mummy or his daddy came to get him.

Now, Harry spent the entire time after lunch trying to keep himself from getting too excited.  He still couldn’t believe that he got to see Tom every day.  Hours and hours of time spent together.  Tom would wait for Harry in front of his primary school, much to the envy of Harry’s classmates and even the older years.  Tom was unbelievably cool, and unlike other people’s brothers or sisters or babysitters, he was always obviously happy to see Harry.  He would beam when he saw Harry and would always return Harry’s hugs with equal enthusiasm.  Tom listened when Harry talked about his day, remembered the names of all his friends and his teacher.  Most days, Tom would take Harry back to Harry’s house.  They would make a snack together and eat and talk about their days.  Then they’d play outside.  The adventures of Prince Tom and Prince Harry were Harry’s favorite, but sometimes they played other games, like cops and robbers, only they were both robbers running from the cops.  After a time that felt too short, Tom would make Harry go back inside and they would sit at the table and work on their homework together.

Even homework was fun with Tom.  Tom could answer just about any question Harry could think to ask, even the ones that didn’t have anything to do with his homework.  After that, he and Tom would read together, taking turns reading the pages aloud.  Since he and Tom had started reading together, he’d gotten much better at it, each page taking less and less time to read, needing Tom’s help less often.

After that, they’d do whatever Harry wanted until his parents came home.  Some days they drew.  Some days they played some more.  Others they watched TV.  Then they would all eat dinner together before Tom had to go home.

That was most days.  Some days, they would go on outings.   Today was an outing day.

Harry looked up at Tom to find the older boy looking down at him.  Harry beamed up at him, swinging his hand and Tom’s back and forth.   Tom’s eyes warmed up in that way that made Harry’s inside all warm and Tom smiled back at him.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked him.

“You remember that club I told you about when we first met?” Tom asked.  “The one you helped me design the logo for?”

Harry nodded.

“I’m taking you to our clubhouse.  To meet some of the people in my club.  I want you to meet them, but only if you want to meet them too.  Is that alright?”

Harry nodded so vigorously that the world started to spin.  Tom wanted Harry to meet the rest of his friends.  It made him feel warm, to know that Tom thought he was important enough to introduce to other people.

Still, as exciting as the idea was, the walk was a long one.  Harry bit his lip to keep from complaining.  Tom was treating him like a big kid, taking Harry to meet his friends.  Big kids didn't whine about their feet hurting, or ask to be picked up.  He could do this, he really could.

"Everything alright, Harry?" Tom asked, looking down at him.

Harry nodded and gave Tom the biggest smile he could manage.  Tom stopped at once and gently lead Harry off the sidewalk to the small patch of grass in front of a building Harry'd never seen before. Tom dropped to one knee, bringing him closer to Harry's height.  Tom reached out and put his hands on Harry's shoulders, staring at him intently.

"Harry," Tom said.  "You don't ever have to lie to me."

Harry's eyes widened, and he began to shake his head in denial.

"Harry," Tom said, his voice a little sterner than it had been moments before.  "I don't ever want you to lie to me."

Then Tom's face softened, and he reached out and brushed Harry's mess hair back behind his ear.

"You're special, Harry," Tom told him, and Harry found it impossible to doubt Tom when he was looking at Harry like that.  "So incredibly special to me, you have no idea.  There's nothing you ever need to hide anything from me.  There's nothing you could do that would make me like you any less.  I would never get you into trouble, and would do whatever it took to get you out of it.  Understand?"

Harry nodded, for all he couldn't really make himself believe what Tom was saying.  It sounded too good to be true.

"Now, I'll ask again.  What's wrong?"

"My feet hurt," Harry said simply.

Tom suddenly looked very cross, and Harry worried that he'd said something wrong.  Tom got one look at his face and reached out to smooth Harry's hair back again.

"I'm not angry with you, Harry," Tom told him.  "I'm angry with myself.  You act so mature, and we have so much fun together, I forget how young you are.  It's not a bad thing," Tom said.  "It just means I need to remember that for all you're kind and brave and strong, your body is still growing."

Tom's forehead got all wrinkly, and he got that scrunched up expression on his face that Harry knew meant he was thinking.

"Right," Tom said at last, looking at Harry again. "The...clubhouse is still far away, so why don't I carry you?" Tom asked, holding his arms open, looking unsure in the way that made Harry sad again.

Tom would have made a good big brother.  It wasn't fair that he hadn't had the chance. Still, a small part of Harry was happy. He didn't think he'd handle sharing Tom well.  This way, he got Tom all to himself.

Still, he didn't want to be carried in Tom's arms like that.  He wasn't a _baby._

He gave Tom his best cute look.

"Can I have a piggy back ride instead?"

Piggy back rides were the best things in the world.  The view from up so high was _amazing_.  You could see _everything!_ When Harry grew up, he wanted to tall so he could see things like that _all_ the time.

Tom gave him a smile in response to his cute face, but it wasn't the sort of smile he was used to getting in response to it.  It was more like the kinds of smiles Uncle Serious and Daddy gave each other.  It was even better than what he'd been hoping for.

"Piggy back ride it is," Tom said simply, turning his back to Harry.

With his knees already on the ground, Tom was in the perfect position.  Harry walked forward and wrapped his arms around Tom's neck, smiling as he did so.

This was the other reason he'd wanted Tom to give him a piggy back ride.  It would let Harry give Tom a sneak hug the entire rest of the time that they were walking.

Tom had gotten better about hugs since he'd become Harry's babysitter.  Harry made sure to hug him lots of times every day he was over.  Tom had gotten less and less suprised every time, which was good.  And he always hugged Harry back really tightly, which was the best thing _ever_.  Still, it always made Tom _so_  happy, no matter how many times Harry did it.  He'd smile that smile that Harry liked so much and was starting to look more and more at home on Tom's face.

Harry let his chin rest on Tom's shoulder as Tom wrapped his arms under Harry's knees before slowly standing.  The world shifted around Harry in the way that he loved, and he looked out over Tom's shoulder at the world around them, too excited to feel tired anymore.  Tom was just as tall as Harry's dad, maybe even a little taller.  Harry felt safe here.  He knew Tom would never let him fall.  Not even as a joke the way his Daddy sometime did.

"All settled?" Tom asked, turning to face Harry.

Tom's eyes were even prettier up close, Harry decided.  All blue and grey swirling together with little specks of green.

"You have pretty eyes," Harry told him.  "Especially when you're happy.  They look like the sky."

Tom stared right at him, blinking slowly in surprise before he smiled, and Harry couldn't help beaming in response.  Tom's smile was one of his favorite things.

"I'm glad you like them," Tom said.  "It only seems fair given that you're the entire reason for it."

Harry stared at him confusing, thinking through the words slowly.

"I...make you happy?" he said, just to make sure he hadn't made a mistake.  Tom used lots of big words, and it was a little confusing for Harry sometimes.

"Yes," Tom said, his smile smaller and more warm, his eyes [sparkling].  "You make me very happy, Harry.  Happier than anyone else ever has."

Harry blushed.

He did the only thing he could do under the circumstances.  He leaned forward and gave Tom a kiss on the cheek.

"You make me happy too," Harry mumbled, burying his face against Tom's shoulder.

There was silence long enough to make Harry worried, and he peeked up from Tom's shoulder, cheeks still burning.

Tom was staring at him with a face frozen in surprise, his eyes wild with something Harry didn't have a words for, looking even prettier than ever. As soon as Harry had raised his head, Tom turned his head and pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek in turn.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise and he could feel his face turning even redder. Still, he turned and gave Tom a smile so wide his cheeks hurt. Tom cared about him too.

"I will do everything in my power to make sure you remain that way," Tom said, his face serious. "Anything, Harry. You've...you've given me things no one else has, and I will never be able to repay you for that."

"What kind of things?" Harry asked, sitting up straighter, curious.

The corner of Tom's mouth tugged up in a half smile.

"Kindness. Affection. All of it too sincere to doubt. All while accepting me exactly as I am."

"That's what friends do," Harry told him.

"Well," Tom said, beginning to walk, "I've never had a friend like you before."

Harry was shocked. Tom was so smart, and funny, and fun to be around. He treated Harry like a real person, paid attention to him like he was important. How could someone like that not have had friends before?  It wasn't right. It wasn't right at all.

There was nothing he could do about the past.  But he could do something about the future.

"I'll always be your friend, Tom," Harry said, wrapping his arms around him as tight as he could without hurting Tom.

"And I'll always be yours, Harry." Tom told him in response, looking at him with a soft look.  "No matter what happens."

Harry smiled and buried his face against Tom's shoulder again, smiling widely at nothing as he enjoyed the rhythm of Tom's steps and the warmth of Tom's body next to his own

* * *

 

Harry woke slowly, disoriented.  He didn't recognize the wall he was staring at, and the pattern on the couch he was laying on was nothing he'd seen before, all green and silver.  Home was mostly filled with shades of red and gold.

"...if any of you allow harm to come to even a single hair on his head..."

Tom, Harry realized.  His voice sounded different - all cold and scary.

Still, Uncle Sev was like that.  All warm and nice with Harry and Mummy and cold and scary to everyone else.  Sometime's Harry got the cold and scary voice too, which had upset him until his Mummy told him to look at Uncle Sev's eyes when he did it.  Uncle Sev, she explained, had been hurt a lot.  He was cold and scary to some people because he didn't want to be hurt again.

But his eyes were always warm when he looked at Harry, and he knew Uncle Sev would do anything for him.  Things like take him to the snakes at the petting zoo when not even Mummy would.

Tom had been hurt a lot too.  It made sense that he might be the same way.

"...it will make what I did to Myrtle Warren look like _child's play_.  Do I make myself clear?"

A bunch of voices Harry had never heard before murmered the words "Yes, my Lord."

Harry sat up slowly, rubbing at his eyes.  He wanted to find out who the other people were.  But he couldn't see anything.  His glasses, he realized, were missing from his face.

"Tom?" he called out tentatively into the blurry room, able to make out vague shapes and colors, but nothing else.

"I'm here, Harry," Tom said, with no sign of the coldness that had been there just a moment before.

One of the blobs came closer and closer until it stood just in front of him.  Tom, Harry was guessing.

"Do you know where my glasses are?" Harry asked.

The blob grew even closer, and Harry felt cold metal settle behind his ears and on the bridge of his nose.  The first thing he saw in the newly clear word was Tom staring down at him a soft smile on his face.  Harry beamed up at him in response.

"Did you sleep well?" Tom asked him, holding out his hand for Harry to take.

Harry nodded and reached out and grabbed Tom's hand, glancing over at the group by the table when he heard a series of gasps.

There were four people standing there, all of them looking at their joined hands in openmouthed shock.

Harry glanced at where Tom had wrapped his nice, warm hand around Harry's little one.  Maybe he had missed something interesting?  Like a spider?  Or a snake!  But no, it was just their hands.

Harry looked up and stared at Tom.  Tom would have the answers.  He always did.

"I'm not a tactile person, Harry," Tom offered in explanation.  "That is," Tom began in what Harry thought of his teaching voice, catching the look on Harry's face, "I don't usually like other people touching me.  I _never_ touch other people."

"But you touch me all the time," Harry said, confused.  Harry had been the one to hug Tom first in the police station, but Tom had hugged him back.  And Tom had hugged him lots of times since.

Tom look down at him and gave him a soft smile.

"That's because you're special, Harry."

Harry beamed up at him, swinging their joined hands back and forth in happiness.

"Now, there are some people I'd like to introduce you to.  Would you be willing to do that?"

Harry glanced up at the people at the other end of the room, all staring at him.  Harry found himself shying closer to Tom, a little afraid of having so many big strangers focused on him.  Still, these were Tom's friends.  Tom's friends who he wanted Harry to meet.  Harry could be brave, if it would help make Tom happy.

He nodded, but stayed close to Tom's side, clutching Tom's hand tightly.

“Avery,” Tom snapped, and one of the four people, all about Tom’s age stepped forward.

“Harry,” Tom said, smiling down at him, “this is Casper Avery”

Harry glanced up at the boy before him. He was wearing the same clothes as Tom - they all were, which Harry knew meant that they all wen to the same school. His brown hair was lighter than Tom’s. He was handsome, but not nearly as handsome as Tom was, his hair carefully and neatly combed in a way that Harry knew his hair would never manage.

Casper crouched down so that Harry didn't have to hurt his neck trying to look up at him.  He smiled at Harry, but something made Harry think he wasn't actually happy to see him.  He seemed more scared than anything else.

”Hello, Harry," he said.  "Like...like Riddle said, my name is Casper."

"Are you a ghost?"  Harry asked.

Harry looked at him closely.  He wasn't pale or see-through or anything else Harry might have expected, so he was pretty sure the answer was no.

Casper gave Harry a real smile at that.

"No, Harry, I'm not a ghost," he said.  "My little brother asked me that same question, though, after he first saw that movie.  He's about your age."

"I always wanted a big brother," Harry said, a little jealous of Casper's younger brother for having something he wanted.  But then he felt Tom's fingers tighten a little around his hand and he looked up and beamed.  "But I have Tom now, which is _even better_  than a big brother."

BIg brothers were mean sometimes, after all.  He'd seen that much at school.  And with Tom, he had someone to keep him company while his parents were at work.  Someone to play with, to help him with his homework, to make him ants on a log after school.  Someone who would keep him safe and give him hugs whenever he wanted, to tuck him in at night when his parent's weren't home.  Tom, who was his friend, who looked at Harry like he was the best thing Tom had ever seen.

Tom was much, much better than a big brother.

Tom gave him a smile, his eyes shining.  Harry heard a bunch of weird noises and looked around to see where they were coming from.  But before he could find out where they were coming from, he got distracted by the look on Casper's face.  He really did look like a ghost now.

"Avery," Tom said, his cold voice making all the noises stop at once.  "You'll bring your brother with you next time Harry comes."

"My Lord..." Casper began, even managing to _sound_  like a ghost this time, which Harry thought was cool.

"That was not a request, Avery," Tom said, sounding even colder.  It was kind of cool.  Like his voice had managed to freeze everyone in the room.

"Yes, my Lord," Casper said through gritted teeth, rising to his feet.

"Not here," Tom said, waving his hand.  "I'll ask Harry's parents, arrange a play-date."

Tom said the last words like he had just smelled something bad, and he couldn't help but giggle.  Tom looked down and gave him a quick smile, but it had disappeared by the time he looked back at Casper.

"You are to make sure there are no objections."

Casper dipped his head in response before stepping back, his face reminding Harry of a statue, all pale and stiff.

"Abraxas' nephew is around the same age.  Lucius's son.  Draco, if memory serves.  I'll be certain to be in touch with him as well," Tom said, before casting a look down at Harry, a small smile on his face.  "I want to be sure there are people looking after you when I can't be there."

"Lucius would never allow his son to associate with someone below his station," Casper said, his voice all wobbly.

"Lucius will do _exactly_  what I tell him to do," Tom said coldly.  "I know more than enough to destroy him and his family's reputation if he doesn't."

Tom glanced down at Harry and smiled, reaching out to brush Harry's hair back from his face with the hand Harry wasn't clinging to.

There was a moment of silence before one of the other boys stepped forward and crouched down the way Casper and Tom did, only he looked very uncomfortable.  He had long, dark blond hair that rested perfectly flat on his head.

"Hello, Harry," the man said, smiling too wide.  "My name is Sebastian Nott.  It is my honor to meet the next heir to the Potter family."

"Hi," Harry said shyly, clinging to Tom's hand even tighter.

Tom's other two friends were called Lucas Rosier and Oliver Mulciber, and they were both even scarier than Sebastian had been.  By the time they were done looking at him strangely and telling him their names, Harry was practically hiding behind Tom's legs.

Tom looked at him before turning and giving all his friends a look Harry couldn't see.  Harry liked it though, because it made them all back away, letting Harry loosen his grip on Tom's trousers a little.  Tom gently pulled his hand free from Harry's before dropping down on one knee, crouching in front of him.

"Now," Tom said,  "my friends were playing a game before we came.  Would you like to learn to play?"

Harry nodded.

"Excellent," Tom said.  "They were playing at that table over there. Would you like to sit with me while you learn?"

Harry nodded eagerly.  Tom always taught him all the best games.  They were lots of fun, even if they did mean he needed to think a lot.

Tom reached out and scooped Harry up in his arms before he straightened, and Harry beamed from where he was supported by Tom's arm, now the tallest one in the room.  The view from this high up was the best. Harry couldn't wait to be tall like his Daddy and Tom. Then he'd get to see this view  _all the time_.

"Now tell me, Harry," Tom asked walking toward the fuzzy green table in the corner. "What do you know about poker?"

Poker, Harry decided two hours and several rounds of something called "Texas Hold'em" later, pulling all the colorful chips across the board towards him and Tom, was fun.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is for winterlysoldier on tumblr, who correctly guessed my old username and got to pick what I updated as a reward. I hope this doesn't disappoint :)
> 
> Just as a heads up, I removed the references to the Potter Lordship last chapter. There's already enough going on in this fic and I don't need one more thing to juggle. Hope this isn't a disappointment to anyone.

Detective Inspector James Potter straightened up as the phone at his desk rang, ignoring the loud groan that Sirius let out. He knew what this meant as well as his partner did, and he wasn't any happier about it than Sirius was. Most of their cases were either stalled out, solved, or waiting on test results. Results they weren't due to get for days, if not weeks. Which meant that this phone call could only be about one thing. But this was their job, and Sirius could at least hold off on his moaning until they were in the car on the way to the scene. They'd only just managed to get back in the dispatch Sergeants good graces, and if they fucked it up again so soon, they'd be getting calls a trained monkey could handle instead of anything remotely interesting.

"DI Potter," he answered.

"Potter, it's Tonks. There's been a murder. Head scratcher for sure."

Joy.

"What's the address?" he asked, reaching for a pen and the small notebook he kept by the phone, scribbling down the street and number that she gave them.

He stared at them with a frown, something about the street name, Little Hangleton nagging at him.

"What's the face for?" Sirius asked him.

"Get up and put on your coat. We've got a murder to deal with. A 'head scratcher' according to the rookie."

"Oh joy of fucking joys," Sirius said. "There go _my_ plans this weekend."

"Shut up," James said, cuffing him absently over the head as he passed a little harder than he would normally have done. "Come on, let's get out there."

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked him, standing up and pulling on his coat without another word.

"Something about the address is familiar, that's all," James said, staring at the number and road again.

"Old case?" Sirius asked as they began making their way towards the car.

"I'm not sure," James answered.

"Shit," Sirius said, echoing James' thoughts exactly.

An address being familiar was rarely a good thing. It usually meant that business and personal matters were about to mix themselves together in the worst possible way.

James was almost grateful when the pulled up in front of the house. He'd needed to use his mobile's GPS to get them there, and nothing about the street, let alone the house, seemed at all familiar. An excellent sign, as far as James was concerned.

Sirius, who'd been tense all the way over, for all that he'd tired to make up for it by being an even bigger pain in the arse than usual, took one look at James' face and relaxed.

"Nothing to worry about then?" Sirius asked him.

"Nope," James answered cheerfully. "I've never seen this place before in my life."

They made their way over to the crime scene, where the Rookie, Sirius's cousin Tonks, was standing outside the scene waiting for them.

"Wotcher, Tonks," James greeted her with a grin. Her side of the family was the only part of Sirius' family tree that he didn't want to set on fire.

"DI Potter, DS Black," she greeted them formally.

Ah. Moody was nearby. Watching her every move, no doubt. He was an ornery bastard of a training officer, but he was one of the best policemen on the force, hands down. Tonks would be an exemplary officer once he was done with her. After all, he'd managed to make damn good detectives out of both Sirius and James. Man was a fucking miracle worker, no doubt about it.

James ducked under the tape, holding it up for Sirius and Tonks. Once he was inside, he grabbed a pair of gloves and a set of booties, propping himself up against the wall.

"What do we know?" he asked as he set about tugging the small bits of cloth over his shoes.

"Home belongs to a mister Tom Riddle," Tonks said. "We're pretty sure he's the stiff down the hall, but we'll need to get ID confirmed."

James froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins as he spun to face Tonks.

"Riddle? Tom Riddle, you're certain?"

"Like I said, we need to confirm ID, but he looks like a match to the picture on Riddle's license."

James swore before he made his way back outside, pacing up and down the sidewalk.  Fuck.  Fucking fuck.  He _knew_ he'd recognized the address from somewhere.

Tom's paperwork.  The address had shown up on Tom's paperwork, where the details of his crime had been listed.  Taking a deep breath, praying that somehow he was wrong, even though James knew he wasn't, he turned and made his way over to the side of the house.  He kept his eyes fixed on the ground as he walked, a part of him hoping that if he put it off to the last possible second he could somehow change what he was about to see, to prevent him from being right.

Never in his life had James hoped to be wrong so fervently.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he looked up.

There, marring the pristine white of the Riddle's ridiculously expensive house, was a snake.  The green paint was sprayed with a precision that most artists would envy, the snake itself seeming almost alive.

James crouched down, bracing his hands on his thighs as he fought to keep himself under control.

Tom was a murder suspect.  Hell, given what information the boy had shared with James during the past few days, Tom was their prime suspect.  Which meant that there was a chance that James had spent the past week leaving a _murderer_   _alone with his son_.  That there was a murderer looking after his child _right now_.

"Fuck," James muttered.  "Bugger it all!" he snarled as he straightened.

"That seems to be an accurate summary of the situation, yes," Sirius said wryly.

He didn't know exactly how long his best friend had been there. James had been to absorbed in his own thoughts to pay attention to anything outside of them.  Still, he needed his partner for this one.  Needed someone to keep him focused.  Keep him on track.  Keep him from being distracted by how terribly personal this had just become.

"Fuck, Sirius.  There's a murder suspect alone with my kid right now."

"James," Sirius said, giving him a look.  "That murder suspect has been totally and completely whipped by your son.  Harry has that boy wrapped around his little finger.  Harry is going to be fine in the few minutes it's going to take for Remus to dismiss his classes and then drive like a crazy person to get to the house.  Okay?  And we'll make sure he doesn't know what's going on, so that we'll have the chance to pick him up and ask him some questions.  Which should, quite honestly, be pretty stupidly easy, what with knowing exactly where he is and all."

"Right," James said, breathing through his nose.  "Right."

Sirius was, for once in his miserable life, making a lot of sense.  Remus could be there a lot sooner than James or Sirius could, and while any time his son spent alone with a murder suspect was too much time, there wasn't really anything he could do about it right now.

"Besides, aren't you kind of jumping the gun here?" Sirius asked him.  "I mean, yeah, we'll have to look at him, but, I mean, come on.  It's _Tom_."

"He's the only suspect we've got right now," James snapped at him.  "Riddle Senior in there was his father.  A father who, when Tom confronted him with paternity, basically laughed in his face and insulted his mother.  Estranged son, recent argument, history of lashing out," James said, gesturing to the wall.  "If it was anyone but Tom, you'd be sure we basically had the case sown up."

"Not this early in the game, no," Sirius said.  "We haven't even looked at the _scene_  yet, James.  Come on.  The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the sooner we'll have out answer.  Once we have our answer, you can stop panicking, one way or another."

"You're right," James said, forcing himself upright.  "You're right.  Sorry.  I just...the thought of Harry being alone with someone who's killed people is just..."

"I get it," Sirius said.  "I really do.  I love that kid with all my heart, and if anyone ever touched a hair on his head, I'd kill them," Sirius said with an alarming amount of sincerity.  "But James, we absolutely have to do this one by the book.  And your crazy irrational feelings aside,  I don't think Tom killed these people.  Like, yeah, he's trouble.  But he's not _this_  kind of trouble.  Not yet.  And you and Lily will make damn sure he doesn't get the chance to be anything more than a kid who got mad and spray painted the house of his fucker of a sperm donor."

Sirius took a step back and examined the wall in front of them critically.

"He's actually very skilled," Sirius said.  "I mean, that thing looks like it's about to jump down off the wall and bite my face off.  I'm impressed.  Brains and artistic talent.  Tom's got a bright future ahead of him.  Assuming, you know, he didn't actually murder his deadbeat dad."

James laughed, unable to help himself in the face of Sirius's ridiculous commentary.  Sirius beamed, looking smug. It had been his goal all along, James kne,w but that didn't mean he appriciated what his firend had done alny less.  James reached out and put a hand on Sirius' shoulder in thanks.  A quick phone call to Remus later, and James was finally ready to, you know, do his job.

There were three bodies.  It seemed that Tom Riddle Senior's parents had been visiting him.  The reason it had taken so long to discover the bodies was because the family were all supposed to leave on vacation together the day after Tom had painted his masterpiece.  They weren't due back until sometime yesterday, and they'd given all their staff time off until their return.

It had been their housekeeper who had made the discovery this morning.  Senior's parents were both upstairs and had been killed in their bed.  Tom Riddle Sr, however, had been killed in his office.  James and Sirius decided to start their investigation there.

 James took one step into the room and covered his nose, his face wrinkling as he took in the scene before him. Week old body was never a particularly good smell, and Riddle Sr. was no exception.  The smell of old blood everywhere did nothing to help with the problem.

"Jesus," Sirius said, looking around the room and letting out a low whistle.  "It looks like a fucking animal went at him."

It was one of the more gristly scenes James had seen in his career.  Riddle Sr. was slumped back in his chair, his eyes wide open and clouded.  There was blood _everywhere_.  A huge pool of the congealed stuff on the floor, spray and castoff all over the walls and all over the desk.

"Well," Sirius said wryly, staring around them.  "I'm going to go ahead and guess that cause of death was probably blood loss.  Likely from one of those...shit, fifteen?  Fifteen stab wounds."

James grimaced, the knot in his stomach growing tighter.  This wasn't something a stranger would do.  There was too much rage in it for that.

"Personal, from the looks of things," James muttered, an unhappy twist to his mouth as he walked closer to the body, being sure to stay clear of the blood on the floor.  A difficult task, given the sheer amount of the stuff.

"When was their vacation supposed to start?" James asked, peering at the wounds as closely as he could without disturbing anything.  They couldn't touch the body until the ME got there, but he wanted to try and get a sense of the wounds.  If the murder weapon had been a crime of passion, it likely would have been something from the room itself.  Something the killer had just grabbed while he'd been consumed with rage before striking out.

If it was premeditated, if the killer had taken the time to grab a weapon from somewhere else in the house or brought one with them, then that would be trouble.  Premeditation meant much harsher sentencing.  Not that it really mattered, James suddenly remembered.  Regardless of what had been the motive for the murder of Tom Riddle Senior, there was no excusing the murder of the older Riddles, no way to argue it had been done in a fit of passion.  Whoever had killed these people was going to spend the rest of their life  in jail.

James closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fighting the feeling that if he'd somehow found Tom sooner this all could have been avoided.  He needed to stop this.  He was letting his fears control his thoughts.  There wasn't enough evidence yet to be jumping to any kind of conclusions.  Tom was a suspect, yes.  He had to be, given his relationship with his father.  But the investigation had barely started.  Taking shortcuts of fear would only undermine his objectivity.

"What do we know about the Riddle?  I mean, other than what Tom has told us?" James asked.

Sirius, who had speak time speaking with other officers while James was busy pulling himself together, answered.

"Rich.  Like, really stupidly rich, as I'm sure you can tell from the house."

James just blinked at him.  He needed Sirius for this kind of shit.  The guy was pure blueblood, and as much as he tried to forget it, the lessons his parents had drilled into his head couldn't be forgotten.  James came from money himself.  The Potters had always done well for themselves when it came to inventions and that sort of thing, but they also kept to themselves.  They liked their lives the way they were too much to let the money go to their heads.  So while James had money, he honestly forgot about it most of the time.  Lily was in charge of the finances, and before he'd had her, it had mostly just sat in his account, accruing interest.

But Sirius was old money.  Money older than dirt, as Sirius had once put it.  He knew how to recognize exactly how much someone had spent on their clothes just by looking at them.  Could tell how well off they were and how long they'd been well off just by walking through a room.

"Spell it out for me," James asked, still studying the wounds as best he could.

"They come from money.  Not old money, but not new either.  I'd say it probably wasn't the couple upstairs, but one of their parents who made the money.  They've been smart with it since though.  Not as rich as you, and clearly social climbers, but yeah.  Couple million at stake, at least."

"Money," James said deadpan, "always such a wonderful motive."

James hated working cases where the murders had money.   They had something everybody else wanted.  Usually had staff, which meant a whole bunch of different people with access to the house, which meant lack of forced entry didn't mean much of anything.  Not to mention that in his experience, the vast majority of them were complete and utter toffs.  Which only extended the suspect pool.  He _hated_  working cases where the victims were rich.  Hated it.

He straightened up at last, turning to face Sirius.

"Knife, I think," James said.  "I couldn't get a good look at the wounds, and we'll have to wait for the medical examiner to be sure, but I think it was a knife.  I'll go check the kitchen.  See if maybe the murderer grabbed something on the way in, or left in on the way out."

"I'll stick around here for a bit, and then meet you upstairs, alright?"

About an hour later, they'd found everything they were going to find from the scene itself.  While the elder Mister Riddle had been stabbed, he hadn't had it as bad as his son.  Only three or four wounds, though it had been more than enough to kill the guy.  Mrs. Riddle, curiously enough, had simply had her throat slit.  There were signs of forced entry at the back door, and at least as far as they could tell, none of the Riddle's knives were missing. If one of them was the murder weapon, it had been cleaned, which meant they wouldn't know anything until CSU had had a crack at them.

The ME didn't have anything useful to tell them.  They'd all been stabbed to death with a knife, dead somewhere between six and nine days, based on insect activity.  He'd know more when he did the autopsy, but not much more.

"Right," James said, staring at the body of Tom Riddle Senior, feeling as if he were looking into the future and seeing exactly what Tom would look like twenty years from now.  "Let's go detain a delinquint and destroy my son's happiness."

"That's the spirit," Sirius said with forced jocularity, smacking James on the back on his way out the door.

James heaved a sigh.  This was going to crush Harry.  He knew it.

* * *

James parked the car in the driveway, turning off the engine and taking a deep breath.  He'd dropped Sirius off at the station on the way over.  As they'd been going over the timeline in the car on the way over, they'd realized something. The last time anyone had seen Mister Riddle alive, it had been when he was having Tom arrested.  Which meant that Tom and Peter were the last people to see Riddle Sr. alive.

Which meant that one of them needed to talk to Peter before they talked to Tom.  Trying to pin down the timeline. Get a sense for what the atmosphere was like between the two Toms before they brought Junior for interrogation.

"Are you sure you want _me_ to this?" Sirius had asked him, holding the door open as he draped himself over it to peer into the car.  "Seriously, James.  You go talk to Peter, I go get Tom.  Nobody would think anything less of you.  There'd be no _reason_ for them to."

James shook his head, for all that the pit in his stomach had only seemed to grow heavier.

"No," James said.  "I have to do this myself.  It'll be easier on Harry if it's me.  And I brought Tom into the house.  I should be the one who takes him out of it."

"James," Sirius said, his expression solemn.  "Don't get ahead of yourself here.  We still have no idea what happened.  The kid's Dad was an asshole, so he tagged his house.  That's all we know."

James nodded wordlessly, but said nothing, tightening his hands around the steering wheel.  Sirius patted the roof of the car a few times in wordless encouragement before he finally shut the door to the car and made his way into the station.

James didn't remember anything about the drive to his house.  One moment he was in front of the station, and then next he was pulling into the driveway. James blinked, once, twice, then took a deep breath and pulled the keys out of the ignition, opened the door, and made his way across the lawn to the front of the house.

Remus had been waiting at the front door, a concerned look on this face. 

"What is this about, James?" Remus prodded him gently.  "Sirius just told me it was an emergency and I needed to get over here right away."

"I'm here to pick up a suspect in a murder investigation," James said, his words clipped.

Suspect.  The suspect who'd been babysitting his kid for the last week.

James brushed past Remus while his friend was still staring at him in shock, not in the mood to go over things again.  It was time to just get this over with, get it settled once and for all.

It wasn't hard to find Tom.  All James had to do was follow the sound of his son's giggles.

Harry's laughter led him to the back yard, where Harry was sprinting through the yard, his cheeks red and a wide smile on his face.  Tom was chasing him, a wide grin spread across his usually sober face, his arms held up as chased Harry with a loud roar.

"Daddy!"  Harry cried as soon as he saw his father standing on the porch, changing direction sand sprinting towards James as fast as his little legs could carry him.  "Daddy, help!  The evil dragon is going to get me!"

"You'll never escape me, Prince Harry!" Tom said with a grin before he put on a burst of speed.

Tom reached out and grabbed Harry, tackling him gently in a way that made sure Harry never actually touched the ground.

"You're mine now, Little Prince!" Tom declared, before he set upon Harry, attacking his ticklish spots with unerring accuracy.

Harry tried to squirm away, letting out hysterical peals of laughter.  Tom was laughing too, his mouth spread wide in a grin.  Looking at him now, it was impossible to believe he was capable of the carnage James had seen in the Riddle house.

Tom glanced up, and James stared at him.  He jerked his head wordlessly towards the house, and Tom nodded.  He stood slowly, putting Harry gently down on the ground before he knelt in front of Harry.

"Harry, I need to go talk to your Daddy, okay?"

"I'll come with you!" Harry said cheerfully.

"I don't think it's that kind of conversation," Tom said wryly, casting a glance in James' direction.

James met his gaze with the coldest glare he could manage.  There was no way in hell James was letting Harry get anywhere _near_ this.  And no way in hell he was letting Tom anywhere near Harry until this was all settled, one way or the other.

James walked forward, reaching out to put a hand on Harry's shoulder, putting a smile on his face for his son.  He wanted to be close to him, to able to reach out and comfort him when James told him exactly what was going on.  Not the details.  Hell, James didn't want to tell him anything.  But Harry was just as stubborn as both his parents, and James seriously doubted he was going to be able to get Tom out of the backyard without some kind of explanation.  Not now, at any rate.

It was Tom, of all people, who saved him from having to deal with Harry's tears on top of everything else.

"Your Daddy needs to talk to me about work, Harry," Tom said simply, his face warm and open as he looked at James' son, no hint of dishonesty about him.  "You know that he doesn't like to talk to you about work until everything's all finished, right?"

Harry pouted, but nodded his head reluctantly.  All of a sudden his eyes narrowed, and he stared up at Tom suspiciously.

"You didn't do anything bad again, did you?" Harry asked him.

"I promised you I wouldn't get in trouble anymore, didn't I?" Tom said, giving Harry a soft smile.

Harry nodded.

"Have I ever lied to you?" Tom asked him next.

Harry shook his head this time.

"I keep my promises, Harry," Tom told him.  "Especially to you.  Now, why don't you go ask your Uncle Remus that question you had about dragons.  If anyone will know the answer, he will."

"But don't you want to know too?" Harry asked him.

"I do," Tom told him seriously.  "So you'll just have to remember everything so you can tell me next time you see me."

"Okay!" Harry chirped happily.

Tom held his arms open in a silent invitation, and Harry darted forward, hugging Tom tightly.  Tom's arms wrapped around Harry in turn, his eyes closed as he held Harry to him tightly.  For a moment, for a reason he couldn't explain, a part of James was terrified that he wasn't going to let go.  But Tom pressed a kiss to his forehead before doing exactly that, sending Harry back inside with a smile on his face.

James stared at the his son's retreating back, Tom standing silently beside him.

"Tom, I swear to god, I hope you meant it when you said you were keeping yourself out of trouble. Because if you break my son's heart, I swear to god, I'll make sure they throw the book at you."

Tom turned to face him.

"DI Potter, I'll always keep my promises to Harry. Always," Tom said, still staring at the door to the house.

Looking at his expression, it was impossible to doubt him.

"You care about him, don't you?" James asked, turning to face Tom at last.

"I love him," Tom answered simply. "I'd never do anything to hurt him. I'd never let anyone else hurt him either."

"I hope to god you mean that," James said.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me [here](http://strangesoulmates.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for fic snippets, status reports, and other detritus.


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